


Of Challenges and Consequences

by kobean



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: CrissColfer Big Bang, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 14:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5295149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kobean/pseuds/kobean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darren and Chris have been roommates for years and everything has been going good (great, even). But then, Chris decides he wants a place of his own – and Darren goes along with it because what else is he supposed to do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Challenges and Consequences

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [Helen](https://twitter.com/HelenBrinidish) for figuratively holding my hand during this whole ordeal and beta’ing at the same time. Writing this was like pulling teeth most of the time, but you cheered me on to finish and here I am. Thank you to [Nora](http://nunu55.tumblr.com) for the beautiful art ([check it out here!](http://nunu55.tumblr.com/post/133085163072/for-kobean-ccbb-fic-of-challenges-and)). It is more than I could have imagined and I adore it so much. And of course, lots of love and thank you to [Lindsey](http://controlofwhatido.tumblr.com) for putting this all together. And also for dealing with my procrastinating ass.

Darren looks at the address smudged on his left palm, then out the window at the white and blue house. The person he’s meeting is named Chris ( _Christopher, but really, only my mother calls me that_ ).

He doesn’t know what to expect as he steps out of the car -- the sun beating down on him and the clear path to the the solid blue door in front of him. He’s looked at other places around the city -- he’s not naive enough to set his eyes on one and hope things pan out the way he wants them to -- and they’re all good. Simple and close enough to the parts of the city he wants to be, while also not being too far from his college campus. But this one, Darren thinks, looking at the bold black numbers on the brick wall. This one just feels like home.

There’s soft music coming from inside -- a window propped slightly open -- and Darren can hear someone shuffling from one room to the next.

That must be Chris.

He brings his hand up to the door and knocks.

*

When Darren moved in with Chris, he was nineteen. His parents liked the fact that Chris was well into his twenties with a stable job. They hoped that living with someone older would help Darren in some way as he carved his own path in the world.

Darren liked the fact that Chris had a spare bedroom and bathroom and didn’t ask for a country and a blood sacrifice for rent. It also didn’t hurt that they seemed to share a lot of the same interests -- Chris being totally on board with Darren’s brand of nerd.

And Chris. Well, Chris probably liked that he found someone who could pay the rent.

It was a win for everyone.

*

A month into the new living situation and Darren is finding out a few things. One, he still feels like he’s a guest. He wonders if he’ll always feel that way; wonders if this is a universal feeling that everyone feels but never talks about. Two, he really took his mom’s cooking for granted all those years he lived at home. He misses the home-cooked lumpia and the smell of adobo and kare-kare filling up the entire house. He probably should’ve learned to cook at least one of those things before he left the nest. And three, living with anyone that’s not family is, well -- it’s awkward.

_Is it okay to make this joke? Will they be offended? How long until I can rip a wet one without being weird about it? Or is there ever a time where this is allowed? Does Chris actually want to make small talk after work or is he just being nice? Why is Chris up at four in the fucking morning (why am I up at four in the morning)? Does he know I can hear him through the walls?_

“Look,” Chris says suddenly. They’re both lounging on the living room couch -- Chris with his laptop perched on his thighs and Darren flipping through channels. Nothing’s on, and he knows nothing’s on, but that doesn’t stop him from scanning through three more times.

Darren turns his head, “I’m looking.”

“I don’t just want to be roommates,” Chris blurts out, and his cheeks turn a little pink right after. “God, there’s _no_ way to finish that without making it sound like a total line.”

“Was it a line?” Darren raises an eyebrow.

Chris’ eyes widen. “No. That. That would be inappropriate.”

Darren gently reminds him. “I _am_ over eighteen, Chris, relax.”

“I mean -- we’re friends.” He continues. “Well, we’re getting there. We just have to get past the awkward part of living with each other. But. We can do it. I believe in us.”

“I don’t know, man, I’m kind of a slacker.” Darren jokes, putting his foot up on the coffee table they found at a garage sale the first week he moved in. Chris glares pointedly and Darren laughs under his breath before setting it on the floor where it was before. “And like, you’re totally established and older and handsome, and I’m like -- none of those things.”

“I’m not that established or that much older,” Chris mutters. Darren wants to say: _Okay, but you work for a good company with a steady income -- and sure, it might not be what you want to do, but that’s something. That’s more than most people. And okay, you’re not that much older. But twenty-seven, compared to nineteen, is a hell of a lot older._ He doesn’t, though.

Instead, he grins. “Well, at least we both agree on one thing then: you’re handsome.”

Chris rolls his eyes, but the tips of his ears are burning a bright pink. He turns back to his laptop where a blank email is open. “Stop flirting.”

“Okay.”

He types a few lines, before saying, “And stop staring at me. That’s not helping.”

“Okay.”

Darren turns back to the screen. There’s another car chase somewhere in Los Angeles and he settles back against the cushions to get comfortable. This will kill at least an hour of his time.

“We’ll get there, by the way,” he says, not turning to look at Chris. He knows Chris is attuned to him when the typing stops. “In fact, I put forth a challenge to speed the process a little bit.”

“That’s not normal,” Chris replies. Darren turns slightly to see Chris’ questioning gaze. “It has to happen naturally.”

“It will.” He holds up two fingers. “Two weeks. We’ll call it the Become the Best fucking Friends challenge. Do you accept?”

“And what happens if it doesn’t work?”

Darren shrugs, “Then I admit that the challenge may have been a dumb idea, make you pancakes, and we’ll let our love grow organically.”

There’s a quiet that follows. Darren looking at Chris, and Chris looking right back at him. The TV is still playing the car chase and Darren can hear soft, muffled voices of the newscasters giving their useless commentary -- and he thinks, _this moment right here is important_.

“I accept.”

“Fuck yeah,” Darren exclaims, excitement thrumming through his veins. He holds out a hand and Chris takes it, squeezing tight. “Let’s do this.”

*

The very next day, Darren meets Chris’ best friend.

“I didn’t realize we were allowed to bring our fuckboys,” Becca says in way of greeting when Chris and Darren arrive at the tiny breakfast spot a few miles from their place. Apparently, it serves the best waffles in town and Becca is a slut for waffles. This is all according to Chris, of course -- one of the many random things Darren has learned about Becca on the twenty minute drive over. Kind of like how Saturday mornings are usually reserved for her.

When Chris had invited him to tag along, Darren felt a little like he was intruding. He knows they had agreed the night before to make an effort to become better friends, but he doesn’t know if that entails barging in on other “friend time”.

“Trust me,” Chris had said. “I wouldn’t invite you if I didn’t want you there. Besides, you’re bound to meet her sooner or later. Might as well get it over with.”

Chris slides into a chair opposite Becca, Darren taking the seat next to him. “Becca,” he says, and Darren doesn’t miss the sharp look he gives her which she returns with a shrug. “This is Darren. The new roommate.”

“Got it,” she says, eying him curiously. “You have really curly hair.”

Darren subconsciously brings a hand up to pull through his hair. “Uh, thanks.”

“It was more of an observation, but you’re welcome, I guess.”

“She’s always like this, by the way,” Chris stage-whispers to Darren. “I also lied earlier when I said she was my best friend. She’s totally not.”

“You called me your best friend? Aw.” She touches a hand to her chest and bats her eyes at the both of them.

“Well, not for long,” Darren winks.

She narrows her eyes at him and says, serious and low. “You underestimate the amount of evil in my tiny, blonde body, hobbit -- I will kill you and steal your obnoxiously thick, long lashes before you even realize what’s happening.”

Darren glances at Chris who’s trying not to grin, then back at Becca, who is waiting for a reaction.

“Okay, that went to a dark place really fast,” Darren comments. “And I like it.”

“Of course you do,” Chris says, unsurprised. “I bet there’s nothing in the world you don’t like.”

“We’ll figure that out together in due time, Christopher.”

Chris rolls his eyes, Becca snickers, and Darren considers it a win.

*

The rest of Week One of the Challenge goes pretty well.

On Sunday, Chris meets Darren’s college friends (only a few of them because meeting all of them would be a bit overwhelming). They go out for dinner and karaoke and when Darren finally gets Chris to belt out a song, he’s not all that surprised to learn that he has a killer voice. He spends the rest of the night picking out songs they can duet and they go home with their voices hoarse and smiles plastered to their faces.

On Monday, Chris has work from 9 to 6. Darren gets out from his last class at 4, but instead of going home, he meets Chris at his work building.

“Package for Mr. Colfer,” Darren grins, popping his head into Chris’ office. “Don’t get too excited though, it’s just me. Tiny, cute, and free of charge.”

Chris twirls in his chair, eyes widening in surprise. Darren rarely sees Chris in his work outfit, which is a shame, because he looks really really good with his black pants, white button down and black tie.

“Whoa, hi.”

“Sorry,” Darren says sheepishly. “Maybe I should’ve texted instead of surprising you?”

“No, no,” Chris assures him. “It’s a good surprise. This is - this is nice.”

Darren relaxes and takes a moment to take in Chris’ space. There’s two chairs opposite his desk and a few posters on the wall. There’s a big whiteboard to his left with some diagrams and notes that Darren wants to ask and learn more about, but he’ll save that for another time. Behind him, there’s a nice view of the the streets below with palm trees lining as far as the eye can see. It’s nice.

When he turns back, he sees Chris eying him closely. Waiting.

“Thought I could hitch a ride back with you? Carpool privileges?”

Chris laughs at that. “I think I’ll keep you.”

On Tuesday, Darren meets Chris’ sister through Skype. They talk all through dinner (Thai and beer) and it’s the first time, Darren thinks, that Chris really lets Darren see the other side of him.

On Wednesday, they don’t get to hang out -- Chris has a work dinner ( _networking_ , Chris calls it, _which sucks because we all know no one really wants to be there and everyone wants something from the other, but that’s the corporate world for you_ ) and Darren opts to stay in and write a few tunes he has brewing in his brain.

Darren doesn’t hear Chris come home later that night, and Chris doesn’t bother Darren even though he can hear the soft strum of the guitar coming from the room opposite his.

It’s the sound of a plate clanking against the sink that breaks Darren’s focus from his notebook. He looks at the clock and realizes it’s two in the fucking morning and he probably should have been in bed three hours ago.

“Chris?” he whispers into the dark as he walks out of his room into the hallway. He can see the outline of Chris’ back in the kitchen, unmoving and silent. “Chris?”

No answer.

“Man, are you okay?” Darren comes to stand beside him, and reaches out a hand to his shoulder. Chris tenses but remains quiet. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s just me.”

It takes him longer than it should to realize that Chris is sleepwalking. His brother, Chuck, used to do the same thing when they were younger. He won’t ever forget the first time it happened, finding Chuck sitting in his computer chair, motionless and not speaking. Darren has since learned how to deal with it.

“Come on, man,” he says, holding onto Chris’ waist and guides him back to his bedroom. “Let’s get you back in bed.”

On Thursday, Darren has a job interview at one of the local music stores. Chris spends his lunch break on the phone throwing faux interview questions Darren’s way to prepare him.

“Thanks,” Darren sighs into the phone. “It’s stupid to be nervous for things like this, isn’t it? But it happens all the fucking time. Like, what’s the worse that could happen? I don’t get the job, well, so what? Not the end of the world.”

Chris clicks his tongue. “You must be new to this. It _would_ be the end of the world.”

“You’re such a little shit,” Darren laughs. “I’ll see you later?”

“Unless the world ends.”

On Friday, they order pizza and spend the night watching movies.

“Why don’t you ever bring your girlfriend over?”

Darren almost chokes on a pizza. He swallows slowly. “What?”

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t hear me,” he replies, picking at the cheese on his slice. “I just noticed that you’ve never brought anyone over even though I know you’ve been hanging out with that one girl in your theatre class since you moved in. This is my weird way of telling you, you can. Even though you hardly need permission from me. But if in some weird Darren way, you were waiting for it. Well. Here it is.” He clears his throat. “Permission granted.”

“I could ask you the same thing, you know.”

Chris furrows his eyebrows.

“Why don’t _you_ bring anyone over?”

“Because there isn’t anyone.”

Darren nods. “Well. Same here.”

“Okay,” Chris says.

They go back to eating in silence. And there’s a question that’s nagging in the back of Darren’s mind.

“What if I wanted to bring a _boy_ over?”

“That.” Chris starts, “That would be welcome, too.”

And then Saturday rolls back around, Chris is washing the dishes when Darren comes from behind and asks into his ear, “Are we the best fucking friends yet?”

Chris holds a soapy plate under the cold water, and tries to hide his smile. “We’re close.”

*

The Second Week goes pretty much the same as the first.

On Sunday, Darren gets offered the position. He celebrates by making up stupid songs the entire day.

“You’re actually really good at that,” Chris muses.

Darren is about to launch into a song about the car alarm that just started next door. “Why, thank you, sir,” he sing-songs. “You’ll be telling me to shut the fuck up soon enough.”

Chris hums. “With a voice like yours? Never.”

On Monday, Chris drops Darren off at school before going to work.

“Who needs a car when you have a chauffeur?” Darren has his cheap, pink sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose, looking between the streets of LA as they pass by and Chris to his left. “I could get used to this.”

“You realize this is not an everyday thing, right?”

He pouts. “You mean you don’t want to spend your mornings in the car with me? That hurts. That hurts deep in my young, healthy, loving heart.”

“Are all nineteen year olds this dramatic?” Chris says to himself. “Was _I_ this dramatic?”

“I’m pretty sure you skipped right past the teenage phase and went straight into adulthood.” He thinks for a second, bringing a hand to his chin for effect. “Maybe even skipped infancy and toddlerhood.”

“Well, at least one of us did.”

Darren sticks his tongue out at him, and thinks: _I like this. I like this a lot._ Everything with Chris feels easy now. Feels natural. Feels like they’re getting there, wherever there is. In hindsight, he knew that whoever he ended up living with, they’d get along. Darren just has a knack with connecting with people. He’s good at it.

With other people, though, he feels like he needs to be on his A-game all the time. He needs to be Loud Obnoxious Darren, or Always Singing Silly Tunes Darren, or Won’t Stop Flirting With You Darren.

With Chris, he feels he can just be… well, Darren.

Chris slows down as he turns into a small street where Darren says will be the easiest place for Chris to drop him off without having to deal with too much traffic and pedestrians.

He slows until he’s stopped at the curb.

Darren gives him a smile, reaching over real quick to pinch Chris’ cheek and stepping outside before Chris has time to retaliate in some way.

“Ugh,” he groans, rubbing at his skin. “No one’s done that to me since, like, Christmas. What are you, my Grandma?”

“Yes, and I couldn’t help myself, Christopher,” Darren says in his best imitation of Grandma Colfer. Or at least, what he imagines she sounds. “You’re just oh so adorable. Now come here and give me a kiss before I go.”

“Always the clown,” Chris says, shaking his head, but Darren can see the small hint of a smile. “Okay, don’t get into trouble, and make good life choices.”

“I’ll try, but you’ll always be my favorite choice,” Darren replies, batting his thick eyelashes.

On Tuesday, Darren buys a small whiteboard. He sticks it on the wall next to the fridge and writes: _This is Whiteboard. Whiteboard wants you to press that marker’s hard tip against its body every day. Write something loving. Write something dirty. Even better, draw something dirty._

“Should I expect to wake up to dicks now?” Chris says, pointing at the whiteboard when Darren looks at him, confused.

“You don’t already?”

Chris frowns exaggeratedly. “Unfortunately, no.”

“A dick in the morning,” Darren nods. He watches as Chris grabs and uncaps a water bottle from the fridge. “Just for you. I’ll make it nice and thick -- which I imagine you like.”

Chris takes a sip and says slowly, like he’s trying to make sense of things, “You imagine what dick I like.”

“Don’t act like that’s weird. Totally not weird!” And then because Darren is Darren, he adds, “I think about dicks a lot.”

“Oh God,” Chris bursts into laughter. “I don’t know why I ever assumed you were only into girls. Sometimes I think you’re gayer than me.”

“I’m from San Francisco,” Darren says like that explains everything about him. And maybe it does.

It’s Wednesday when Darren gets a call from Chris. He’s just gotten out of class and Chris is ranting about one of his bosses -- Darren can’t really keep up or understand but he interjects in all the right places and lets Chris blow off steam.

“Because of all of that, I’ll be home a little late tonight.”

Darren makes a whining sound. “I hope your boss knows they’re taking away my valuable Chris time.”

“I’ll make sure they know.”

“Good.”

There’s a small pause, and Darren is about to fill it with useless words, until Chris clears his throat and says, “Just so you know -- you were the first person I wanted to talk to about this.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Darren thinks over the importance of that. “Not even Becs? Well, I don’t blame you -- I’m pretty fucking great.”

He can hear the smile in Chris’ voice when he replies. “You are.” And then, “I think we might have just completed the challenge, by the way.”

“Best fucking friends level?”

“Best fucking friends level.”

*

Darren doesn’t think either of them expected to live together for more than a year. Mostly because of the age difference. His parents had warned him that Chris would probably want to change things up sooner rather than later. ( _He’s in his late twenties, Darren, he’ll want his own life soon enough and you’ll be that age soon enough, sweetheart_ ).

He knows that’s code for Chris will want to settle down with someone and get married and start a family. Maybe get a dog and a cat. Maybe even a fish.

It doesn’t seem like Chris has that in his mind at all. Not now, at least. He can count on one hand the times Chris has had someone over and it is usually Becca or Kevin, a friend from the gym. He also knows Becca tried to get him to date some boy she’s met at work or a friend of a friend’s to no avail.

Whenever the thought of settling down does cross Chris’s mind, Darren thinks he’ll be ready to leave.

He doesn’t really expect to live with Chris forever. Although he is totally not opposed to the idea, either.

*

“Are you two, like, _dating_?”

Jenna, one of Darren’s best friends since meeting in Theatre class their freshman year, is staring after Chris’ car as it drives away from campus. Chris has made it a habit of dropping him off before work whenever he can (which is to say: most of the time). It’s not the first time Jenna has seen Chris do this and it definitely won’t be the last.

Darren knows Jenna knows the answer to the question, but he’s also not surprised she asked.

Darren says, “He’s my sugar daddy.” He waits for her reaction before smirking. “No, he’s just my roommate. You know this.”

She rolls her eyes. “Of course I know he’s your roommate. Maybe you want to keep it quiet, I don’t know, because of the age difference? Because you live together? I can’t be the first person to ask you that.”

“You’re not.”

She definitely isn’t.

“See,” she says, appeased. “A valid question.”

Darren pats her shoulder. “Yes. Very valid. You are valid.”

“Plus,” she points out. “You mentioned he hasn’t even like dated anyone the entire year you’ve been living with him.”

“He’s been on dates,” Darren corrects. Then shrugs, “I don’t know -- I try not to pry into his love life. But maybe none of them stick around because they’re not good enough.”

“And you’ve been on dates, too, you slut.”

“Nothing gets past you, my dear,” he says, laughing. They’re walking through campus, bypassing scurrying students who are obviously late for class. “What’s your point?”

“I think you know what I’m getting at.”

Darren chooses to ignore the look Jenna gives him. Significant and knowing.

*

After that, it seems like everyone else in the fucking world is on the Chris-and-Darren-are-dating state of mind. Not that it entirely bothers Darren, but he thinks, sometimes, it might bother Chris.

“Stephanie asked how long we’ve been dating,” Chris says two days later once the doors to elevators close. Stephanie, the office secretary, waving at them until the very last second. Darren has met her a few times and he absolutely adores her.

“Did you tell her we’re engaged now and are planning to adopt a child from the beautiful country of Sri Lanka?” He pauses. “It’s a boy and he’ll be named Ryder after my imaginary friend and because you like to write. Get it?”

“We’ll need to discuss your choice of names, because Ryder? Really?” Chris shoots back. “And you know what? You’re never allowed on my floor again. The next time you want to have lunch, we are meeting in the parking lot.”

“But babe --” Darren starts.

“Don’t _babe_ me.”

Darren tries. “Honey?”

“You’re impossible.” He says with no heat, and when he looks at Darren, his eyes are bright blue and beautiful.

This is not the first time someone at Chris’ work has mistaken Darren for the boyfriend. Given that he’s always stopping by for lunch or after classes, it would probably be weird if they didn’t.

“I bet they have a pool going.” The elevators open and Darren makes a gesture for Chris to get out first. “Do you think if I join, I could earn some serious bank?”

“Do you hear yourself when you talk?” Chris asks.

“Sometimes it’s just angels singing, but for the most part, yeah.”

Chris mutters _oh my God_ under his breath and takes long strides until he’s stepping out into the sunny, polluted streets of LA.

*

The next week, it’s the cashier at Whole Foods. Chris pays for Darren’s things, even though Darren puts up a very thorough and valiant fight.

“You two are just the _cutest_ couple,” she grins. “Just adorable.”

Chris says, “We’re not together.”

And at the same time Darren says, “We practice.”

*

The time after that, it’s their next door neighbor. Darren is standing at the sidewalk to get their mail.

“I rarely see your boyfriend anymore.”

Darren looks up and sees the older gentleman that lives a few houses down named Fred walking towards him. Behind him, Fred’s golden retriever trots happily. “Tell him I say hello. Oh, and that my wife found three kittens in our garage the other day.”

“Um, okay. Congratulations?” Darren replies.

Realizing that Darren doesn’t quite understand, Fred explains, “Chris has been wanting a cat for a long time. Or at least that’s what he tells me whenever I see him, which hasn’t been for a few weeks now, so maybe he’s changed his mind.”

Darren blinks. “Oh. I’m allergic to cats.” But he doesn’t think Chris knows that. Or does he? As he’s thinking this, the golden retriever noses against the back of his hand and Darren startles for a second. He bends down to pet through its soft coat. “But I’m _definitely_ not allergic to dogs.”

When Chris gets home that night, Darren is on the floor finishing a bag of chips, watching a basketball game. He smiles when he sees Chris. “Hi boyfriend, Fred says hello.”

“Fred?” He stops to think, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. “Two houses down? Adorable puppy? Wait, really? I thought for sure he would know better.”

“He probably does.” Darren wiggles his eyebrows for effect and barely dodges a flying sock thrown his way. He realizes belatedly that it’s his sock. His sock that he forgot to put in his room where all his socks should be. Chris eyes the rest of the pile of Darren’s clothes lying on top of the couch cushions. “Christopher,” he admonishes jokingly, and Chris tears his eyes away from where they were glued. “That is not how we argue in this household. We are _adults_.”

“Oh, bite me.”

“Later in the bedroom, if you ask nicely.”

Chris turns and disappears into the hallway, “I hate you.”

“He also said he had kittens -- or well, his wife does,” he calls after him. “I had to break the news to him that due to some tragic biological makeup that I have no control over…. I’m allergic.”

Darren can barely hear Chris ask, “Wait. You are?”

“Deal breaker, huh?” He continues, “I told him we would prefer dog-children, anyway.”

*

Darren dates a few girls. It’s fun and easy. He’s not looking for anything serious -- at least not right now.

He never brings anyone to the house, not that he would want to bring anyone home. And he thinks, somehow, that Chris is silently thankful for that.

Darren comes home late after a nice out with a girl he met at work, and is surprised to hear muffled noise from the television. He tries to quietly shut the door and tiptoe to his room.

“And the heartbreaker returns.” Chris says, and Darren is startled.

“Dude,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “What are you doing up?”

Chris shrugs. “Honestly? Couldn’t sleep.”

“It’s three in the morning,” Darren points out. “You usually try to be in bed by, like, 11. Wait, were you waiting up for me?”

Chris scoffs like that’s absurd, and Darren can see right through him.

“Aw, you _were_!”

“You have no proof of that,” Chris says, crossing his arms. He turns back to the television like he hopes the conversation will just _die_.

“I think it’s cute,” Darren admits. He shuffles over to Chris, sitting on the couch. “You’re kind of cute when you care about me and shit.”

Chris grumbles. “I just want to make sure you’re alive to pay the rent.”

“Whatever the reason, you still care,” Darren grins and leans down to give Chris a kiss on the head. “Now, go to bed -- your love is home. Safe and sound.”

Chris relaxes into the cushions and looks up at Darren, smiling.

“I wasn’t waiting for you.”

Darren hums. “Okay, whatever you say.”

*

But then, Darren _does_ wonder.

“You’re hot.”

Chris tenses and turns a shade of pink. “Uh, okay?”

Darren sits on the floor beside the coffee table. He has his guitar sitting across his lap as he stares at Chris, wide-eyed and confused, laying on the sofa in front of him.

“I guess what I’m getting at is: why?”

That did not come out the right way and Chris only gets even more confused. Darren is tempted to laugh.

“Why,” he starts slowly. “Am I hot?”

“No,” Darren tries again. “Well, if you want to try to answer that, then go ahead -- but that came out weird and what I really meant to say is, dude, you’re hot, why aren’t you out breaking hearts and bouncing around town half naked?”

“One, breaking hearts is a sport, and we both know that I don’t do sports. Two, there will be no bouncing of anything and three, no one wants to see my pale ass fully clothed, let alone half naked.”

“I’ve seen you half naked once,” Darren shrugs. “I liked what I saw.”

He narrows his eyes at Darren. “When and where did you see me half naked?”

“That’s for me to know, and for you to agonize over.”

“You’re a peeping Tom,” Chris says, turning to stare up at the ceiling. “I missed that in the background check.”

Darren strums a few chords on the guitar. For a little while, that’s all that can be heard through the entire house.

Chris lets out a sigh. “I don’t think I’m cut out for relationships.”

Darren thinks: _Sure you are. You’re Chris fucking Colfer. Who wouldn’t want to date you?_

“I’ve been in three relationships. The first one with a boy right after high school and we dated for three years.” Chris snorts. “Well, I don’t know if you’d call it dating if we were both in the closet. It got to a point where I didn’t want to hide anymore. I’m pretty sure all our friends and family knew, but he just wasn’t ready and I wasn’t going to force him -- God, no. But I also couldn’t wait around, you know? I felt like I was stuck.”

Darren swallows. “And the second?”

“My boss’ boss,” he says. “Not at my job now, God, no. He was fresh out of a seven-year relationship with a woman who he was ready to marry until he realized, wait a second, I think I might like dick. We dated for half a year before he got transferred to the company’s new building on the east coast and that was the end of that.”

“You didn’t follow him?”

Chris looks at him like he’s crazy. “Why would I? I didn’t love him.”

Darren opens his mouth, but thinks better of it. “And your last relationship?”

“Lasted a year and a half. Pre-med student. Ambitious and smart.” Chris shrugs. “We were on two different paths and wanted different things. I think we both knew we weren’t going to be together forever, but it was nice while it lasted.”

“Whoa.”

“Yeah,” Chris laughs. “That was two years ago? I’ve been on a few dates since then, but I don’t know. I guess you can say the dating world isn’t the easiest.”

Darren nods and sets his guitar carefully against the coffee table. “It isn’t. But you’ll find someone, Chris.”

Chris makes a noncommittal noise. “We’ll see, maybe.”

Darren reaches out a hand to him, and Chris hesitates before taking it. His palm is warm and soft in Darren’s.

They don’t let go for a long time.

*

Darren is right, and Chris finds someone a few months later. Or rather, Becca finds someone for him.

It happens too quickly despite Chris telling his persistent best friend, _I don’t have time to date, Becs, and no, I don’t particularly care if he’s cute, what? Oh whatever, fine, fine, I’ll go out with him once, god_ \-- and before Darren knows it, Neil becomes a regular staple in Chris’ life.

It’s not that Darren minds, really. He’s a nice enough guy -- given, he hasn’t had more than a friendly chat with him. Chris always seems eager to get out of the house like he’s afraid of Neil getting too comfortable around their area. Like he doesn’t want Neil in their area. Or maybe he doesn’t want Darren around Neil.

He gets it, he guesses. It just kind of sucks.

Because rather than spending nights with Darren, Chris is spending them with someone else.

And it stays like that for five weeks.

*

“Sooo, not that I mind or anything -- but why are you here? Or at least, like, more than usual.”

Darren stops strumming his guitar. “Huh? Sorry, Jen, did you need me to leave?” He starts to get up, grabbing his pen and sheets of paper.

Truth is, he might be using Jenna as a distraction. The house is _too_ quiet, which isn’t bad -- Darren is just used to having Chris around. Even if he and Chris aren’t talking or doing anything in particular, it’s nice to know that he’s not alone. And lately, with the place to himself, he just feels lonely.

Jenna asks, “Are you, like, not getting along with Chris anymore?”

Darren is surprised. “What? No, man -- Chris and I are great.” He pauses and looks at Jenna. “Chris is… Chris is _awesome_. He also has this new boyfriend, so like, uh -- there really isn’t anyone to hang out with at home.”

“Ah,” Jenna nods. She looks like she wants to ask something else but thinks better of it. “You can crash here, you know. If you want.”

Darren smiles. “Nah, I’m okay. Chris would miss me too much.”

“I think you mean, _you’d_ miss Chris too much.”

“There’s also that possibility.”

They share a look before Jenna says, “Well, if you’re staying for a while, I demand you play me every song request I throw at you.”

She plops down beside him -- her arm pressing warm and soft against his arm.

“Hit me with your best shot, m’lady,” he sing-songs.

*

In retrospect, Darren probably should’ve taken Jenna’s offer. But how was he supposed to know he was going to be walking in on some heated make out session?

He debates whether he should creep down the hall to his own room (since it doesn’t look like Chris or Neil heard the front door shut) or if he should make some sort of scene, letting them know he’s there, and please please please God please be wearing clothes.

While he’s weighing the pros and cons of each, Chris pushes off the couch -- rumpled and flustered -- speaking hurriedly, “I think you should go. Darren’s probably going to be home soon and oh God, it’s past midnight.”

Something in Darren’s stomach flutters at the mention of his name.

“Seriously?”

Chris grabs a few throw pillows and arranges them neatly on the couch. “Yeah.”

“The kid’s like twenty. I think he can handle seeing his roommate making out with his boyfriend.”

The guy tries to grab for Chris’ hand to tug him back into him but Chris dodges him swiftly.

There’s a moment where Darren thinks about revealing himself, _Hi dudes, I’m here -- I’ll just be in my room. Continue on with your shenanigans, don’t mind me._

A beat, then, “Fine. I’ll text you in the morning.”

Darren has about seven seconds to hide somewhere -- pretend like he wasn’t there the whole time. And, well, Darren doesn’t do well in situations like that so naturally he just stands there. Luckily, Neil doesn’t seem to care or notice when he slips into his shoes and grabs the keys from the stand in the living room. He brushes past Darren in the hallway and slams the door behind him. Not even a, _hey dude_ , or _goodbye dude_.

What a dick.

He can hear Chris silent in the living room, heaving out a sigh, and making his way into the kitchen to (most likely) make himself a cup of tea.

Darren steps forward and clears his throat. “Hey.”

Chris glances at him, gives a weak smile. “You’re home late.”

“Was at Jenna’s.” He shrugs. “I could’ve stayed over if you needed.” He gestures vaguely behind him, trying to somehow say, If you wanted to get laid or whatever, I’m totally cool with it.

“No,” Chris shakes his head. “I wouldn’t ask that of you.”

“But you could. I wouldn’t mind.” Darren thinks about it. “Maybe a few hours heads up would be nice, though -- I’d need to grab, like, a change of clothes and a toothbrush.”

Chris just looks at him -- he looks tired, a little tense but his shoulders seem to relax slowly -- “Do you want some?” He nods towards the kettle on the stove. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in a long time.”

Darren pulls out a chair and sits. “You’ve been kind of busy.”

Chris frowns.

“And I’ve been trying to keep busy.”

“I’m sorry,” Chris replies, grabbing two cups. “I’m a terrible friend. And boyfriend, apparently.”

“Well, I guess you had to be bad at something. Why not those two things?”

Chris shoots him a look -- Darren obviously means it as a joke, but there’s probably some truth in there after all. For Chris at least.

“Jerk,” he says. “You’re such a jerk.”

Darren laughs.

*

They spend the rest of the night catching up on the last few weeks.

Chris’ new project at work. The new song Darren is working on. The new TV show that they need to start watching. The new bar across town that is supposed to have a regular open mic night. “That totally sounds like your kind of place,” Chris smiles. “We should go sometime.”

And Darren thinks, man, _I’ve missed this_.

Chris might be able to read his mind because he smiles like he knows. Like he understands.

Darren just smiles back.

*

It’s not really a surprise when Darren doesn’t see the boyfriend for a few days. But then a few days turn into a week, and then two weeks, and Darren knows he shouldn’t ask but he’s curious.

“I haven’t seen Neil around,” he says, pouring himself a bowl of cereal. It’s nearly one in the afternoon on a Friday and Chris is home early -- something about his boss’ wife going into labor and getting the weekend started early.

Chris pauses -- his fingers stilling for a second as they type something on his phone. “Oh, yeah,” he replies. Darren can see Chris’ fingers twitch a little before resuming their movements. “You probably won’t.” Chris looks up briefly and then looks down. “We broke up about two and a half weeks ago.”

Oh.

“I’m sorry, dude.” Darren could have guessed that. Fuck. He’s an asshole. “Are you okay?”

Chris snorts. “Yes, I’m okay.”

Darren drops his spoon into his bowl and stares at the side of Chris’ head until Chris gets the hint and looks up again.

He narrows his eyes. “Are you sure?”

Chris keeps his gaze, doesn’t waver. “Absolutely.”

“Good,” Darren says after a beat. “Now I can tell you that I didn’t like him. What kind of name is Neil anyway? It sounds like a command.”

“A _useful_ command,” Chris smirks.

Darren ignores him and says, “He was also kind of a dick, dude.”

Chris hums. “And I’m more of an ass man.”

He says this just as Darren spoons a mouthful of cereal into his mouth. It ends up all over the counter and while Darren is cleaning up -- Chris just snickers and says, “You have to swallow, Darren.”

Darren throws a wad of paper towel at his head. “Shut up.”

*

The next few months are good -- great even. Until they aren’t.

In all honesty, Darren should have seen this coming.

*

When Darren was younger, his mother didn’t miss a moment to tell him how much of a goddamn slob he was. Except, of course, this was said in a less vulgar and more loving way. Honey, she’d say stepping into his room to find clothes and books thrown across the floor. She’d pick a few shirts and lay them neatly across the dresser. _I’m going to let you in on a little secret, no one’s going to want to live with you if you continue to live like this._

And he’d reply with, _not even you, Ma?_ which always earned him a click of the tongue and a _don’t push your luck on that one_.

 _Pushing my luck is part of the charm_ , he’d grin.

 _Well, we’ll see how that works out for you._ A soft kiss against his curls. _Clean up in here, please._

Years later and to no one’s surprise, his mother was right. Like she always is.

Damn her.

*

Everything starts to change on a Sunday. It’s just like every other Sunday, really, with Chris spending most of the day running errands before the start of the work week, and Darren taking advantage of the rest of his day after a shift at the music store.

Except it isn’t.

“I don’t know if you know this, but you _do_ have a room in this house,” Chris says, partly annoyed and mostly joking. Or maybe it’s the other way around. He’s trying to gently push Darren’s things (see: backpack, notebook, and guitar) to the corner of the kitchen counter to make room for his laptop. “A room where you can neatly put all of these lovely things.”

Darren turns to look at Chris from his spot on the couch where he decided to have dinner (mac and cheese, chips, and beer) rather than in the kitchen. “My bad, man -- you can, like, shove them on the floor. It’s all good.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows that probably wasn’t the right thing to say.

“The point hovered over your baseball sized hazel eyes, then flew right over,” Chris mutters.

“Was that a sport reference?” Darren asks through a mouthful of food. “I am very proud. I’ll remember this moment forever.”

“ _Darren_ ,” Chris says, sounding exasperated.

“Yes, Christopher Paul?”

His lips make a straight line. “I’m not your mother or your boyfriend.”

Darren scrunches up his face. “I was pretty sure you weren’t my mom, but thanks for clarifying that.”

Chris sighs.

“And I think I would know if we were dating. For one, this little conversation slash argument or whatever is happening right now,” he says waving a hand around. “Would definitely end in some really hot sex.”

“Darren.”

“Hm?”

“Can you please just not leave your shit lying around the house?”

Chris is turned away from him, focused on his laptop.

“Okay.”

*

The next Sunday, Jenna comes over under the guise of rehearsing lines for a laundry detergent commercial that she says she’s pretty sure she can land. Chris finds them in the middle of watching an episode of Breaking Bad instead.

Darren hears the familiar sound of Chris’ boots clinking across the hardwood and the thud of groceries on the kitchen counter.

He pauses the show to turn and greet Chris.

“Hey, you.”

Chris looks a little tired and a little annoyed. “Hey.” He makes a face at the growing pile of dishes in the sink and Darren feels guilt churn in his stomach. He probably should have cleaned those sometime between his shift ending and Jenna arriving.

“Ignore those,” Darren says. “I promise I’ll clean up once Jenna-bo-bana leaves.”

“Ugh, you really need to think up a better nickname,” she groans.

Jenna doesn’t end up leaving until after midnight. Chris is surprisingly still awake despite the fact that he has an early call at work. Darren knows this because Chris has been stressing about an important meeting with some higher ups all weekend long.

He feels even more guilty.

“Do you need help?” Chris asks, yawning.

Darren shakes his head. “Go to bed, champ.”

“Can’t sleep.”

“Fuck. We weren’t too loud, were we?”

He knows the answers is yes, but he also knows Chris won’t actually say it.

“It’s okay, I probably wouldn’t have been able to sleep either way. I have a lot on my mind.”

Darren nods. “Well, want to talk about it while I get my scrubbin’ on?”

Chris moves towards him, opts to lean against the wall where the neglected whiteboard hangs. “Can you believe we’ve been living together for almost two years now?”

“Right? We’re practically married.” Darren grabs a sponge, and stills. “Wait, am I missing something? Did I miss some important anniversary of ours?”

“No,” Chris says, “I was just thinking out loud.”

“Think quieter -- some of us want to wash dishes in peace.” Darren playfully glares at Chris and Chris rolls his eyes.

“Have you ever thought about rooming with Jenna?”

“Not really,” Darren says as he turns on the faucet and feels the cool water touch his skin. He picks up a plate and starts to scrub. “Love her, but I think we would literally kill each other after a day.”

Correction: she would probably try and kill him. Darren would lie there and, like, _die_.

“Besides,” Darren adds, and he looks at Chris who’s watching him closely. “We have a good thing right here.”

Chris’ smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I guess we do.”

*

It’s another Sunday when Chris brings up their living situation again. Darren’s rummaging through the half-empty fridge when the front door shuts and Chris strolls into the kitchen. He drops his bag on the floor, thumps down in a chair that scrapes against the hardwood, and heaves a loud sigh.

Darren glances at him and gives him a small smile. “How did it go, sweetie?”

“Long and awful,” he huffs. Darren is pretty sure Chris has been saying that about work for a few months now, but he doesn’t mention it. It’s not like Chris doesn’t know - you kind of already know what you’re getting into when you work in corporate.

Without thinking, Darren grabs a diet Coke and the leftover Thai from the other night.

“Alright,” he says, sliding a fork across the table and sitting opposite Chris. “I’ve got half an hour to spare before I have to run to do a group project across town. Let’s do this.”

Chris doesn’t say anything at first - the only noise being the scrape of their utensils against plastic and the thud of Chris’ can as he places it on the table again.

“I’ve been seeing a guy the past two weeks.”

Darren stills. “Uh, is he, like, invisible or something?”

He rolls his eyes. “It was just a guy from the 8th floor. He sort of already knows about you. I think partly because he’s seen you around before and partly because of Stephanie and her big mouth.”

Darren misses Stephanie. He hasn’t visited Chris at work in a long, long time. He makes a mental note to do that again soon. They could have lunch on Tuesday or maybe Wednesday. They can plan it out.

Chris continues, “He thinks it’s weird that we live together. Something about you being so young - and how he’s not entirely convinced we’re not fucking.”

Darren barks out a laugh.

“It’s getting a little old, to be honest. For once I’d like someone to come up with something a little more creative -- “

“Like I’m your illegitimate son?”

“Something creative _and_ realistic,” Chris glares.

Darren thinks. “Younger half-brother. Your dad had a hot summer fling with my mom -- you heard I moved to the city and took me under your wing and we’re trying our best to reconnect because, hello, blood and all.”

Chris swallows his food and stares at him. “You’ve used that before.”

“Only once.” It was three months into living with Chris and he was practicing his acting skills by making up outlandish stories on some customers (okay, mostly tourists) that came through the store. They believed him.

Chris smiles - small but fond. Then asks, “Do _you_ think it’s weird?”

“No, man, I’d totally believe we’re half brothers. Besides your dad is kind of hot in an older, ruggedy way --”

“I meant us living together,” Chris cuts him off. “Our relationship. Like, if you were an outsider.”

“No,” he answers immediately. Because it isn’t. They’re Darren and Chris.

Sometimes, he feels like they’ve known each other for longer than they have. God, like, his parents ask about Chris every time they talk like they need to know how he’s doing or else the weekly phone catch-up is a dud. Other times, they make Darren hand the phone over to Chris so they can talk. Chris would just stick his tongue out at Darren, and mouth, _they love me_. And Darren thinks, _well, who wouldn’t?_

Sometimes, he can’t remember a time when they weren’t close -- the Challenge feels like it happened a million years ago and it also feels like somewhat of a joke because they were always going to get to right here.

Chris doesn’t look convinced.

“They’re just jealous, I think,” Darren stage whispers. “I mean, if I were an outsider. I’d be fucking jealous.”

“Okay?”

“I’m like the _prettiest_ fucking escort in town and you don’t care about that part of me -- and sometimes when I can’t afford the rent, I give you amazing, commitment-free blowjobs. Sweet deal if you ask me.”

“This,” Chris says, pointing his utensil at Darren. “This is why people believe what they do. Do you go around telling everyone different stories about how we met or know each other? Wait, don’t answer that. I don’t think I want to know.”

“Let’s just say I may have helped the rumour mill a bit.”

A scoff. “A bit?”

Darren smirks and steals a bite from Chris’ fork.

*

Everything comes to a head the following Saturday night.

Darren ends up at a friend’s birthday party, gets hammered, and realizes belatedly that he has no way of getting back home. Jenna was his designated driver but she left about three hours ago, and fuck, when did it become four in the morning?

The rest is kind of a blur.

He knows he calls Chris -- doesn’t know what he says exactly or how Chris would find out where he is because he doesn’t even know where the fuck he is. But Chris does. Somehow.

He remembers the quiet drive back and Chris carrying him into the house and into his bedroom. He remembers lying there, sleepy and so so drunk, and Chris trying to get him settled with water and an Advil. He remembers Chris’ warm hands on his forehead, on his neck, and on his arm. He remembers _Honey, please drink this, you’ll feel better in the morning_ and _Darren, come on_ and _God, you’re so young I forget how young you are sometimes_ and _good night sweetheart_.

He vaguely remembers grabbing onto Chris before he leaves the room -- his hand around Chris’ wrist, and thinking: _You are my favorite person in the entire fucking world._

Darren wakes up that morning with a killer hangover and fuzzy memories of the previous night. He also wakes up making a promise - that he already knows he’ll break within a week - that he will never drink that much ever again. He trudges into the kitchen to grab something to eat, and sees Chris slumped over in a chair with a steaming cup of coffee in his hands.

“G’morning sunshine,” he greets, squeezing Chris’s shoulder as he walks past. Chris looks tired and tense, something he doesn’t quite notice right away, but will make note of later. “Or maybe I should change that to ‘g’morning super-roomie’.”

Chris snorts at that, and Darren shoots a smile his way.

“Seriously, have I told you lately how fucking amazing you are? I don’t know anyone else who would come to my rescue at fucking, man what was it, four in the morning? Fucking super-roomie, I tell you.”

Chris watches him silently, then takes a sip from his cup. “There’s bacon and eggs in the microwave, grab a plate and come sit down -- we need to talk.”

“Bacon and eggs? What’s the special occasion? Don’t tell me you prepared all of this just to break up with me,” Darren says automatically, aiming for funny but it falls flat. One look at Chris’ face and he knows this is definitely not the time. He clears his throat, grabs some food, and stands opposite Chris.

Darren pops a strip bacon into his mouth for something to do, and waits.

“I’ve been thinking.”

“I wish my brain did the same,” Darren chimes in, not being able to help himself. He can feel the weight of Chris’ thoughts -- whatever they are -- and he wants to crack the tenseness in the air. Even if it’s with one of his stupid little lines.

Chris ignores him in favor of taking another drink from his cup.

“Actually, I may have been thinking for a while.” Darren looks at him and waits. Chris takes a breath and says, “I don’t think we should live together anymore.”

 _Wait, what?_ Darren feels his heart hammering in his chest and he feels like his throat has closed up. Of all the things he thought Chris wanted to talk about, this wasn’t it.

Chris stares at him, looking for some kind of reaction. “I just think -- maybe it’s time for me to have my own place again.”

Okay, so Darren didn’t hear him wrong. This is happening. Chris is asking him to move out. Maybe not yet, but sooner rather than later.

“Was it something I did?” He tries for it to come off as a joke, so they can laugh about it. Make the situation feel -- not as heavy. But it falls flat and Chris reaches out to touch his arm.

“Not really, honey -- I think it was just a slow realization.”

“A slow realization of what?”

Chris watches him and says honestly, “That things aren’t going to work out. At least not the way I want it to.” He adds with a tight smile. “Maybe our time’s just up, you know? We’ve been doing this for what feels like a long time which makes it even harder to see -- see that a change is needed. Sometimes you have to step back and look at the situation as a whole.”

“Which you did,” Darren supplies.

“Yes, I did.”

“I totally get it, man. And I’m gonna be honest and say this kind of feels like the harshest of breakups.”

Chris frowns. “It’s not --”

“No, like, it just _sucks_. You know?” When he notices Chris expression only get worse, he adds quickly, “Don’t - oh man, no, I didn’t mean to guilt trip you or anything. I’m just - I’m just gonna shut up now.”

After a beat, Chris squeezes his arm and slides a hand to hold Darren’s. “It’ll be good for the both of us, I think.”

*

Things are a little weird between them after that.

Chris tells him over and over again that the moving out doesn’t have to happen right away and Darren knows Chris wouldn’t do that to him anyway. But even though there’s no time table or rush, he still kind of feels obligated to hurry the process along.

When Chris finds him in the living room, laptop perched on his knees, Chris thinks he’s ordering pizza. “Oh awesome, I’ll pay this time -- just order me a side of those cinnamon balls? Those things are so addictive.”

“Got it,” Darren answers distractedly. “Chris likes his balls covered in cinnamon.”

Chris peeks over his shoulder and Darren stills. “Craigslist?”

“I’m looking for a place to rent?”

It’s not really a question, but it comes out as one.

“But Craigslist?” Darren shrugs and doesn’t mention that Jenna suggested it. “You don’t know anyone looking for a roommate?”

“Well - there’s a friend of a friend’s, but I don’t know. I think she just wants in my pants.”

Chris smirks. “You mean, she hasn’t already?”

“I’m a little appalled that you’re attacking my virtue like that, but also a little proud. It’s a very confusing moment for me, let me tell you.”

Darren stares blankly at the computer screen. He sees a few new listings on the page. One in Mar Vista, another in Palms, and another out in Sherman Oaks -- none of the areas he would want to live per se but he makes note of the price and thinks they’re worth checking anyway.

“Stop with the searching, all right? Don’t force it. Don’t rush it.”

Darren snorts. “That’s what she said.”

“Which one?” And then, “ _Seriously_ , Darren.”

“Okay.” He closes the tab completely and makes a gesture at the screen like _are you happy now, Christopher?_

“That’s a good boy. Now, please order me some food.”

*

“So did he actually tell you why he wants you to move out?”

Darren furrows his eyebrows and thinks about the conversation. “Just that he wants his own place again. I don’t know, I think when someone asks you to move out - you don’t really question it, you know? Especially if you’re just renting from them.”

She makes a face. “I think it’s because you’ve been getting a little too comfortable.”

“What does that mean?”

“Okay, dopey, I’ve been over there a handful of times and I know you. That’s enough to tell me one very important thing -- that as much as I love you, I wouldn’t have lasted that long living in the same space.”

“I’m a guy,” he shrugs as a way of explanation. “I’m messy. It’s like in my biological make-up or something.”

“And what does that make him? A goddamn wizard?”

“Whoa, there.” He raises his hands in a gesture of surrender. Then says, “I guess I just never really had to clean up after myself?”

Jenna rolls her eyes. “You don’t say.”

Darren pauses. “Do you think that’s why? Because I’m a fucking slob?”

“Maybe,” she answers. “Or maybe he’s looking to find a partner. He’s almost thirty -- he’s probably feeling like he needs to settle down. Or something domestic like that. And he can’t exactly do that with your ass living with him.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. But this happens all the time. What did you think? You were gonna live with Chris forever?” She throws a smile his way. “It’ll be good for you, I think.”

*

Darren has been trying not to think about living with someone other than Chris.

He loves their place -- he loves the old coffee table they found at a garage sale the first week Darren had moved in. It was on sale for $12 bucks and Darren bought it with the extra bills he had in his pocket and said it was his gift to Chris and the new place.

He loves the creaky hardwood floor by the front door so Darren knows the moment Chris is home, despite how quiet he tries to be. Chris always says he’s going to get that fixed someday -- maybe renovate the entire place and have tiles instead. Darren just laughs and says, _go for it, man -- as long as I don’t have to chip in_.

He loves their brown couch and the fact that they silently just know which side the other prefers (Chris on the left and Darren on the right), and the quilt that neither of them particularly liked at first (a gift from Chuck) but somehow has become a staple when they decide to have a night in and binge watch shows together.

He loves their kitchen and that their living room opens up to a huge space where they always seem to hang out. He loves their bedrooms which are right across from each other so Darren can hear Chris typing away on his computer through the early hours of the morning. It’s soothing. Chris can probably hear him strumming a few chords on his guitar, too.

He loves their small little garden in the front. The front lawn where Darren likes to lay a blanket out on warm, sunny afternoons and read his battered copy of To Kill a Mockingbird while Chris puts on a sunhat and sits on a chair near the shade and writes in his notebook.

And then there’s _Chris_.

Darren feels a thick, heavy feeling of dread and sadness in the pit of his stomach at the thought.

He tries to think of anything else.

*

Darren will blame his melodramatic phase on the idea he comes up with overnight.

He calls it: Operation Show Chris I Am Most Definitely Not A Slob By Being The Best Roommate Ever And Also Please, Please, Please Don’t Make Me Move Out.

So, the name needs a little work but it gets the point across.

*

Staring into his room, he thinks maybe he’s in trouble which is sad since this is the first fucking step. He doesn’t know how he never realized how messy his bedroom actually is. There are papers scattered everywhere, like literally - it’s everywhere. On the floor. In his bed. Under his bed. All over the desk. Probably mixed in somewhere with his dirty laundry too. God.

He can do this, he says to himself. He can totally do this.

It might take a long ass time, but he can do it.

*

Chris comes home as Darren is piling boxes and boxes of trash in the hallway. Somewhere around the second and third hour, he lost his shirt.

“Uh, hi?” Chris greets. He waves at him like he doesn’t think Darren is sane enough to recognize him. And true, Darren must look like a mess - hair everywhere and sweat glistening across his body. “What’s all this?”

“Just doing a little spring cleaning. Because it’s spring. And people clean.”

Chris tries to peer over the boxes at Darren. “Is that really all from your room?”

“Yup. And I am nowhere near finished,” he replies grimly.

It’s only now that Darren realizes he probably messed up big time. The point of the plan was to make Chris think he wasn’t a slob anymore. He sighs and looks at the mess in the hallway - not only is the mess worse, but it’s not even contained in his room anymore. Yeah way to fucking go, genius.

“Well,” Chris says, breaking his thoughts. “I’ll whip something up for dinner. I’ll call for you in half an hour? You look like you haven’t even had lunch.”

Darren shrugs sheepishly. “Guilty.”

“What would you do without me?” Chris jokes and disappears into the next room.

*

“You’re not, like, moving out in the middle of the night while I’m sleeping. Are you?”

Darren watches Chris stab at his pasta.

“Uh, no?” Darren says. “I didn’t realize that was a thing normal people did.”

“It’s not, you dummy.” He chews slowly on his food. “I just came home to all those boxes in the hallway and thought maybe -- maybe that’s what you were doing.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Darren sets his fork down. “I haven’t found a place yet. So you’re kind of stuck with me for a little while longer.”

“There’s no rush, remember?”

“I know.” Then Darren adds, “I was actually doing some spring cleaning. But apparently I did such a bad job of it that you thought I was leaving.”

Chris laughs. “Can you blame me? I mean. You? Cleaning?”

“Hey,” Darren defends. “They used to call me Mr. Clean back where I come from.”

“No, they didn’t. And if they did, that’s weird.”

Darren shrugs. “Well, I’m from San Francisco.”

“You really need to stop using that as an explanation for everything.”

“But it’s true.” And it works as a very good explanation, too. “You’re just mad ‘cause you can’t use it. Tough luck, kid. ”

*

It takes Darren a good week to really tidy up his bedroom. He tackles the bathroom next and then sets his eyes on the living room and kitchen.

It’s not too bad since Chris cleans up after the both of them. But they haven’t thoroughly mopped the floors in a long time - wait, have they ever? - and he knows that he might be getting his hopes up thinking it won’t be bad. So he prepares himself for the worst.

He is confident, though, this will be a lot easier than what he has had to tackle before.

*

The plan hits a snag the very first minute in because apparently they don’t have any fucking mops or dusters or old rags to do any sort of proper cleaning with. Darren thinks he should have known that.

He ends up taking an Uber to the nearest Walmart to buy all the supplies he needs, which takes up, like, an hour or so of his time. And then he gets home and realizes that he can’t actually clean every spot on the floor until he moves the furniture around and okay, he did not plan this well at all.

Chris comes home a few hours later to the couch and coffee table pushed up against the farthest wall and Darren in a ratty old Giants shirt sliding a wet mop across the floor while singing loudly to some song playing from his ipod.

Chris leans against the wall in the hallway and watches Darren for a while.

He doesn’t notice until he takes a break to rest his arms and wipe some sweat off his forehead.

“I can explain,” he says immediately.

Chris smiles. “Yes, please do.”

Darren looks around at the part messy and part clean room around him.

“And please don’t use the San Francisco excuse.”

Darren gives a half-smile. “Spring cleaning.”

“What is it about this Spring?” he shakes his head. “I could’ve used this kind of cleaning enthusiasm, say, a few months ago? Maybe even a year ago.”

“Well, you’ve got it now.” Darren says, and holds his arms out. “Yay?”

“Better late than never, I guess, or at least that’s how the saying goes.” He pushes off the wall and walks towards Darren to take the mop from him.

“Uh, I kind of need that?”

Chris tugs until Darren lets go. “Not to make us dinner, you don’t.”

“Dinner?” He’s so checked out, he didn’t even realize it was practically evening. “Oh shit.” And as if on cue, his stomach starts growling. “I’m hungry.”

“I’m psychic,” Chris whispers. “Now, how about that dinner?”

*

Darren’s just about to close the door to his bedroom when Chris says, “Hey.”

“Hey,” he says back, stepping back into the hall. Chris is standing in his room, the door almost all the way shut.

“I just wanted to say thank you. For all the cleaning you’ve been doing lately. I know why you’re doing it and you totally shouldn’t feel obligated to clean everything before you move out.”

Well, fuck.

“Oh.” Darren stares after him dumbly. “Right. Okay.” He clears his throat. “You’re welcome, by the way. It’s - it’s not a problem at all.”

Chris nods, more to himself than anyone else. “Well. Good night.”

“Good night,” Darren says.

*

He lays in bed that night thinking he’s obviously doing something wrong. Chris doesn’t think he’s doing any of this stuff because he wants to stay. Chris thinks he’s doing all of it before he leaves.

Darren throws a pillow over his face and groans.

“Apparently, I’m really bad at this,” he tells himself.

*

It’s sometime later when he hears meowing as he’s trying to scribble out lyrics to a song that won’t get out of his head. It’s quiet enough that it isn’t disturbing his writing mojo, but it is consistent.

Eventually, the sound disappears and Darren doesn’t think about it again.

*

“I think we have a cat problem.”

“We don’t have a cat,” Chris replies, not even looking at Darren. He’s typing away on his laptop, probably the story he’s been working on. When Darren doesn’t immediately answer with an affirmative, Chris adds, “Right?”

“Well, technically, no.”

He finishes typing, closes the laptop, and turns to face Darren. “Okay, now you have my attention.”

“I hear a cat outside my window at night.”

Chris looks like he’s trying really hard not to laugh.

“No, listen, it’s been going on like three nights in a row and I think she may be living in the bushes. Or somewhere really fucking close because it’s like she’s in my room. Oh shit, what if she is?”

“Breathe, buddy --” Chris smiles.

Darren’s eyes are wide. “There’s a _cat_ living in my room, Chris.”

“If that’s true, you would have been sneezing up a storm so we both can immediately cross that off the list.” Chris replies smoothly. “And also, the cat isn’t in your room.”

Darren gasps. “She’s in _your_ room!” He points an accusing finger.

“Uh, not really. She lives in our garage apparently, and I’ve kind of been feeding her.”

“Is she, like, ours?” Darren asks, because he’s never really had a pet before. Since he’s allergic to cats that was never an option. He’s always wanted a dog, but his family used to move from city to city too frequently.

“I didn’t say that…”

Darren narrows his eyes at him. “You feeding her kind of gives me the feeling that she will be.”

Chris doesn’t give in. “We’ll see. I don’t think I should take in a cat right now with work picking up and everything up in the air…”

“I’ll take care of her.” When Chris gives him a look, he says, “I’m allergic but she isn’t going to kill me. I’ll just need to pop some pills and I should be good.”

“Like I said, we’ll see.”

“You’ve always wanted a cat, Chris,” Darren reminds him.

Chris shrugs. “There are a lot of things I want.”

Darren doesn’t ask: _Like what?_

*

They totally keep the cat.

She’s grey, tiny, and really fucking adorable. Darren is kind of in love. Even with all the sneezing. But it’s a sacrifice he’s willing to take.

“This will add to the rumour mill, you know,” Chris teases as he watches Darren play with the kitten. She likes to pounce on him then wander away and do it again. It’s really, really cute.

“Huh?”

Chris just motions to them and the kitten. “Adopting a cute kitten together? Even though she’s technically mine. All mine.”

“Hey, the divorce papers haven’t gone through yet,” Darren says. Then: “Can we adopt a puppy next?”

*

Having a cat isn’t much different than not having a cat. In fact, Darren doesn’t know where she is most of the time. That probably makes him an awful cat owner, but he’s still learning so he’ll take the title in stride.

“You realize we haven’t named her yet?”

“I’m pretty sure the fact that we call her Cat is a big indication of that, honey.”

Darren warms at the nickname.

“Did you want to brainstorm or something? Bounce some ideas between each other and see what sticks?”

“Okay,” he says. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

*

In the end, they name her Paulette in some weird mash up of their middle names.

*

“So how’s the search going?”

“It’s - not really happening.”

Jenna had called Darren early in the morning and demanded they hang out because it’s been, in her words, a billion years since they last saw each other and she misses his stupid face already. In truth, they saw each other probably a week ago, but he goes along with it.

Her fork is halfway to her mouth. “Okay.”

“I don’t know, I’m kind of hoping he’ll change his mind?” Darren tries. It sounds stupid. So stupid. Because Chris hasn’t given any indication that he’s changed his mind about that.

She sets her fork down, and pushes her food to the side. Her attention set on Darren and Darren knows he’s about to get a lecture. He feels a little like a child.

“I adore you,” she starts off. “And I know you don’t want to leave, but _Darren_ , he asked you to move out.”

Darren opens his mouth and closes it again.

“You can’t just not look for another place, hoping Chris will forget about it or change his mind, whatever. I get it. The rent is reasonable and it’s the perfect location -”

“I know - I _know_ ,” he says, cutting her off. “But Jen, listen, it’s not even about that.”

“Okay, then what is it about?” Her eyes grow softer. “He’s still going to be your best friend even after all of this, you know? That doesn’t change.”

He knows that. God, he knows that.

“I don’t want to live with anyone else, okay?”

She reaches out to touch his hand. “It’s not about what you want anymore, though, is it?”

*

Darren doesn’t know when he starts thinking about Chris differently. He thinks it might have started a while ago, but it just never clicked in his brain.

He’s always been attracted to Chris -- that was never a question. But it always felt forbidden, a line he could never bring himself to cross. _It would be complicated_ , he told himself. _What if things don’t work out? What if he doesn’t even like me like that? What if it just ruins everything? No, no, it can’t happen._

He thinks he built that solid wall in his brain pretty well.

But sometimes, it starts to crumble.

Traitorous thoughts trickle through: _He likes you, and you like him. Think of the possibilities. Think of how happy you two could be. How happy you already are with him._

He slowly builds the wall up again.

*

Chris has been working overtime almost every night and Darren knows he hasn’t been sleeping or eating properly. So it was only a matter of time before he got sick.

“You should take a sick day.” Chris has been coughing all night even though he told Darren to go to bed and rest -- Darren just couldn’t. Not when he knows Chris is lying in the living room in all kinds of pain. “Or a couple sick days. Your body is going to give any second, man. Here -- I’ll call for you.”

“No,” Chris answers weakly from his position on the couch. He’s curled to the side, hugging a pillow, and Darren has never seen Chris like this. Sure, he’s been sick but he hasn’t been like this. He kind of wants to curl in beside him. “I’m fine.”

“You aren’t.”

“I am,” he says, annoyed. “Can you just please get me an extra blanket? The quilt isn’t enough.”

Darren frowns. “If you’re not sick, then I’m pretty fucking sure you could get it yourself.”

“I totally can -- I just choose to order you around because you’re standing and um, totally closer to my room.”

He doesn’t say anything else -- starts heating up some soup and tea, and runs to Chris’ room to get the blanket.

*

Chris falls asleep eventually, after Darren fills his stomach with a little bit of food and forces Chris to take something for the cough (and fever).

He leaves a message on Stephanie’s phone to let her know that Chris isn’t coming in that day. He grabs an extra pillow and another blanket and settles it around Chris. He knows there’s no way Chris is leaving that spot, especially not now that he’s finally getting rest and he wants him to be as comfortable as possible.

Darren knows he’s not going to get any sleep tonight anyway. So he grabs his guitar from the bedroom and plays softly to pass the time. Paulette comes out from hiding and curls into a ball beside him.

It seems to relax Chris in some way -- the crease of tenseness on his forehead easing out.

*

Sleep gets the best of Darren, too, and he wakes a little after seven in the morning. Chris is watching him with fond, tired eyes. The cat is lying on top of him, purring.

“You could be a nurse. I feel a little better already.”

Darren snorts. “That’s the medicine’s doing, not me.” He shifts uncomfortably and his body aches. This is what happens when you fall asleep in a heap on the cold, hard floor. “You feel better though? That’s good.”

“It is,” he agrees. “And thank you -- I know I’m stubborn when it comes to admitting defeat. I owe you for putting up with me.”

He waves a hand in dismissal. “You weren’t that bad.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

*

Chris stays home from work for the next three days. It takes some convincing, but in the end, Stephanie and Darren win out. He spends those days catching up on sleep and rest and Chris won’t ever admit just how much he needs it.

“This is nice, right?” Darren asks, handing Chris a cup of tea. It’s warm in his hand and it sends a spike of warmth through his body.

“What?”

Darren sits next to Chris, pulling the blanket over both of their legs. He shrugs. “I don’t know. Resting. Being at home. Being with me,” he adds with a wink.

“Yeah.” Chris takes a drink of his tea. “It is.”

*

A week passes and Darren continues his routine of cleaning the house regularly whenever he has free time. He takes extra measures to look after Chris -- making sure Chris relaxes after a long day at work and pointing out when he needs to take a half day or a day off because _it sounds like you’re about to come down with something again, Chris_.

He starts being proactive too -- buying a cat bed to put in the corner of the living room so Paulette stops taking the throw pillows from the couch. He brings her to the vet for check-ups because he realized they never did. (She checks out just fine and Darren celebrates by buying her a collar with his and Chris’ name with their home address. He stares at it and thinks, _oh, how domestic_ ). The whiteboard in the kitchen starts to get used again -- Darren taking time to write something down to make Chris laugh. And sometimes, Chris will write something back. He even calls his mom for home cooked recipes and tries (hopes) that he can re-create it to taste the same way. Chris has nothing to compare it to, so Darren only half-believes him when Chris swears up and down that it’s the best thing he’s had in a long time.

“You can husband up,” Chris comments. “I think you’re almost there.”

Darren doesn’t say: _I wouldn’t do this for anyone else. Just you._ Instead, he says, “Maybe.”

*

 

Another week passes, Chris doesn’t bring up the “moving out” thing.

And Darren thinks, _maybe, just maybe_.

*

In the end, it’s Becca.

She is in Darren’s bedroom when he gets home from class.

“Jesus, fuck!” He exclaims bewildered. He looks out into the hallway and back at Becca who is casually lounging on his bed. “Uh, Chris’ bedroom is the one across the hall.”

“Thank fuck you’re finally here. You don’t have enough blackmail material in here - I was getting bored.”

Darren is silently thankful he cleaned out most of his shit.

“Becs?” he continues, unsure. “What the hell are you doing in my room?”

She moves so that she’s leaning against his headboard. “We need to talk, sweet thang. Come sit next to Mama Tobin.”

She pats the space next to her, but Darren thinks better of it and sits on his computer chair instead.

“What do we need to talk about?” He’s weary. He’s known her almost as long as he’s known Chris, but they’ve never been close. In fact, Darren was always convinced that she hated him. Whenever he tells Chris this, Chris replies with something along the lines of: _she hates everyone_ or _you’re a little paranoid_.

She scoffs. “What else would we talk about? The weather? Traffic in LA? Come on now.”

Darren leans back in the chair, crosses his arms. “We could start with why the fuck you’re always such a dick to me. How about we start there?”

“Easy,” she says, unfazed. “I’m the best friend, and you’re the boy said best friend is in love with. And don’t fucking pretend like you didn’t even know or had an inkling, okay? I knew there was something there the moment you walked into that cafe with him.”

“I don’t --”

“No, and don’t spew whatever bullshit to me. You don’t think I watch you when you’re together? You don’t think he talks about you to me?”

Darren is still. “Okay,” he says after a while. “Are you just here to berate me and then leave?”

“No. I’m here to tell you to move the fuck out.”

“What?”

She sighs heavily like she doesn’t know why she has to explain everything. “Look. Chris asked you to move out in the first place because of all the feelings and shit. And I knew he wasn’t going to make you leave, but I also didn’t think you’d still be here.”

“I haven’t found the right place yet.”

“Well, no shit you haven’t. You’re never going to find the right place, whatever the fuck that means. We both know that’s just an empty excuse to make it seem like you’re actually looking -- which you’re not.”

Darren’s mouth is a straight line.

“I get it,” he says. “You’re doing Chris’ dirty work.”

Becca looks at him. “He doesn’t know I’m here, all right? He would literally have my head if he knew about this.”

“I could tell him, you know.”

“You won’t,” she says.

She’s right. He won’t.

“Look, fine, I’ll leave.” Becca gets up from the bed -- the sheets rustling as she does. She turns to look at him again when she gets to the door. “I’m protective of him and I’ve been told it comes from a place of love.”

Darren’s lip twitches to an almost-smile.

“We do weird things when we care deeply for someone.”

“I care about him, too.”

She holds a hand up. “I didn’t say you didn’t. But it explains a lot, doesn’t it?”

*

Darren thinks about it all that night.

And slowly, slowly, slowly: the wall starts to crumble completely.

*

“Paulette,” Chris says sternly. “You can’t have this, honey. I am not going to give it to you, no matter how long you give me those eyes. You’re cute, but no, someone in this house needs to stay strong and resist.”

Darren is in his bedroom, but he can imagine Paulette sitting on the countertop in front of Chris. He can imagine her intently gazing at him and whatever he’s having. He knows Chris won’t give in, but he also knows Chris will always be really close to.

“Darren,” Chris calls to him. “Please tell Paulette that I am only looking out for her health. Maybe she’ll listen to you.”

He laughs. “You’re on your own. I want to stay on her good side, man.”

“You’re useless.”

“I am most definitely not useless,” Darren says, making his way down the hallway and into the living room. He looks at the two of them - they’re both looking back.

Chris takes one look at him and asks, “Um, do you have a hot date tonight or something?”

“No.” He pauses. “Well I guess it depends. Do you want to go out with me?”

“Where?”

“Anywhere. You pick.”

Chris watches him and says slowly. “What’s up?”

Darren doesn’t break eye contact. “Nothing’s up. I just want to have dinner with you.”

“We always have dinner.” Chris gestures to the kitchen. “Well, here. But still.”

“Well, let’s change up the scenery then.”

*

They eat at a nice restaurant near the beach. It’s outdoor seating and they can hear the gentle crashing of the waves. It’s peaceful.

Chris pulls his jacket tighter around himself. “This feels a lot like a date,” he jokes.

“Good,” Darren replies and he gives a small twitch of a smile. “Because that’s what I’m aiming for.”

Chris tries to read him, he can tell.

“That’s.” Darren starts then stops. “That’s okay, right?”

Chris is careful, and takes a sip of his water for something to do. “Yes,” he says eventually in a single breath.

*

It’s awkward in the car after that. Darren drives Chris’ car because Chris had a little bit to drink.

Darren knows Chris is confused.

At a light, he holds a hand out between the console. He doesn’t think Chris is going to reach back, but he does.

They hold hands like that for the rest of the drive back home.

*

Darren is fiddling with the keys trying to figure out which one opens the front door. Actually, he knows exactly which key it is, but Chris is standing directly behind him. He can feel his body heat and it’s distracting.

“Do you need help?” Chris asks eventually. Darren can hear the smile in his voice.

“No,” he says. “I got it.”

When they’re inside, and the door clicks behind them, they’re engulfed in the quiet.

They stand in the hallway awkwardly and Chris is shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

“I think this is the part where I say, thanks for dinner and give you a kiss at the door.”

Darren gives a little nervous laugh.

“Except you live here too,” Chris adds.

“I do,” Darren replies. “Can I give you a kiss at the bedroom door instead?”

Chris thinks about it and walks backwards slowly. “I guess we just gotta freestyle since this is new territory.”

Darren feels butterflies in his stomach as he walks after him. And then suddenly he’s standing in front of Chris and Chris is leaning casually against the door jam.

“Well,” he starts, “Thank you for dinner.”

“You’re welcome.”

Darren waits. Chris waits.

“Um,” Darren says.

“Oh, fuck it.”

Chris grabs the front of Darren’s shirt and pulls him in for a kiss. Their mouths crash hard against each other and it takes a moment too long for Darren to realize, oh fuck this is happening this is real this is happening.

He can feel Chris start to pull away, but Darren grabs onto Chris’ waist and thinks, _stay here, don’t go anywhere, stay right here._

And Chris gets the point somehow -- brings a hand up to cup Darren’s face and then down to his neck. Darren can feel the slight press of his fingers against his pulse, Chris’ way of saying: _I’m not going anywhere_.

*

Darren doesn’t sleep in his room that night. And if he is lucky, he won’t have to sleep there for a long time. He thinks he can get used to being right here -- in Chris’ bed with Chris in his arms.

“This is weird, isn’t it?”

Darren murmurs. “Sorry, am I clinging too much? I’m kind of clingy like that.”

Chris shuffles and turns in Darren’s arms so that they’re facing each other. “I mean, _this_ ,” he says gesturing between them. “Like. Does it not weird you out?”

“No,” he says, frowning a little. “Why would it?”

“Because up until a few hours ago, I didn’t even know you could like me in that way.” He looks down, fiddling with the front of Darren’s shirt. “I kind of always hoped you would, you know? And sometimes, I thought there could be something there, but nothing ever happened. I think it might have been deliberate, though.”

“It was,” Darren agrees. “For me, at least.”

“Me too.”

They let that settle between them.

“I’m not cut out for relationships,” Chris says into the silence. And Darren thinks back to the last time he said that. “You know that already, though. You saw it.”

“That was one relationship and he was a dick, remember?” Darren adds. “And I’m not. Or at least I don’t think I am. I hope I’m not?”

“You’re not,” Chris laughs and then looks at Darren seriously. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

“Who says it’ll be you?” Darren questions back. “It could easily be me.”

“You’re right.”

Darren scoffs. “ _Hey_.”

Chris laughs and Darren smiles. He holds Chris a little tighter.

“This feels a lot scarier than all my other relationships. You’re not just some guy, you know?”

“I know. I feel the same way about you.”

Chris sighs. “So what do we do?”

Darren shuffles closer to Chris’ body. Leans his head down to nuzzle his nose, to kiss his lips, his cheek, the tip of his nose, and then his forehead.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Chris teases.

Darren pulls back a little so he can look at Chris, and thinks: _this moment right here. This is important_.

“I propose a challenge,” he says as seriously as he can.

“Oh?” Chris replies. His eyes are bright even in the dark. “Do tell.”

“We date.”

And when Darren doesn’t elaborate, Chris asks, “That’s it? We just - we just _date_?”

“That’s the challenge,” Darren confirms. “Are you in?”

“Is this your way of asking me to be your boyfriend?” Chris narrows his eyes. “Through a damn challenge proposal?”

Darren just grins. “Like I said, are you in or what?”

Chris is quiet. “And what happens if the challenge fails?”

“We’re just going to have to try our damndest so that it doesn’t,” Darren says softly.

Darren half-expects Chris to say no. Chris looks at him, eyes blue and bright, and Darren thinks this could go either way. He’s thrown out a million and one challenges throughout the years.

Mostly stupid ones like challenging Chris to eat an entire jar of mayonnaise after Chris mentioned that he could probably eat mayonnaise with everything.

_Oh, you love it that much, do you? Well I propose a challenge!_

That’s how that challenge started. And it didn’t end well -- Chris still can’t even look at a mayonnaise jar without wanting to die.

Or challenging Chris to see who could last the longest without showering. Darren wins, but Chris doesn’t think it could really be counted as one. Darren kind of agrees.

Or challenging Chris to see who could keep a British accent the longest while also convincing everyone they are, in fact, British. Chris wins that one, convincing many people that he’s seventh in line to the throne.

Or challenging Chris to see who could take the most shots without dying. Darren wins that one, but he wakes up with a massive hangover. Chris snickers and Darren doesn’t know what he’s thinking, but he agrees.

This challenge, though, is different.

This one actually _matters_.

“Okay,” Chris says. “I accept.”

Darren feels himself let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Yeah?” he asks. Just to be sure.

“Yeah.”

He moves to press his mouth to Chris’ and pushes him back, back, back until he’s on top.

*

“This means I don’t have to move out anymore, right?”

Chris groans and uses a pillow to smack him.

“Wait, is that a yes?” he asks. “Because I don’t think I’m comfortable with having someone else live with you.”

Chris rolls his eyes. “You’re so dumb. So, _so_ dumb.”

“You still didn’t answer my question, Christopher.”

“Yes,” Chris replies and leaves open mouth kisses on Darren’s neck. “You can stay for as long as you want.”

“Okay,” he breathes. “I think I’ll stay awhile.”

Chris smiles against his neck, and Darren thinks: _this is home, you’re home._


End file.
